Winnie

Junk

After Winnie calmed down the two headed over to the storage facility. Unfortunately, Winnie was unable to convince the woman working there that she was sent to clear it out, considering she didn't have any of the papers necessary for the transaction.

"I'm sorry miss, you don't even own this unit." The name tag read, Pam.

"But my stuff is in it!" Winnie had been trying to get her to open it for quite a while now.

"Not my problem, if you want in you need to bring the key and the renting document that was given to the person who rented the unit. NO ACCEPTIONS." Pam smiled, she won.

Winnie huffed and walked out. Spencer had been waiting by the car, getting the back seat open in case there was a lot of stuff to take back. He stood up a little straighter when Winnie came out.

"She won't let me in the unit because i didn't rent it." Winnie said. She understood why, you can't just let strangers into someone else's storage. But nonetheless she was frustrated. Spencer thought for a bit then took out a piece of paper from his bag.

"I have an idea." He then took out his FBI badge. "Don't tell Hotch" He then winked at Winnie and walked inside.

Really? A wink? I am such an idiot sometimes, Spencer thought to himself.

Winnie thought it was cute though.

Within minutes Spencer came out with the key to the unit.

"It's number 32." He said with a smile.

"How?"

"Well, i have a search warrant. And I'm pretty sure that unit has some 'criminal evidence'." He smiled and held up the paper he had previously taken out of his bag.

"You just happen to carry a warrant with you?" Winnie asked.

"No, this is a printed copy of the rules of monopoly, but she doesn't need to read it." Spencer and Winnie laughed. they started walking to number 32. "And before you ask. I needed the rules for monopoly because Garcia found out i had ever played and made me learn it. And then she immediately regretted that after i won every game."

"Well, Penelope has her priorities straight."

"Yes, monopoly is very high priority for her. I hear she and Morgan play every Tuesday night, but you didn't hear it from me." Spencer shot her another wink.

Again with the winking. She's gonna think i have a twitch or something.

Winnie gigged at it.

Ew, did i just giggle?

The two stopped in front of the garage door. Spencer unlocked it and lifted the big orange door. The first thing he noticed was the ikea bookshelves. There were four of them and they were quite tall. Piled along the back wall were boxes, probably filled with thee books that were once on the shelves. There was also a coffee table on its side and a couch wrapped in plastic wrap. On the floor was a line of what used to be house plants but have now all withered away. The decorative pots of dirt sat sadly by the wall.

"Lets get started then." Winnie said grabbing a box of stuff.

They went through each box and decided what to keep and what to leave. Winnie was somewhat of a minimalist so she only took out the essentials.

After an hour or two of quickly sorting stuff Winnie ended up with 4 boxes of stuff to keep. She found her old laptop and tablet, a few of her old journals and notebooks, her old phone, and some clothes and shoes. She also grabbed her import documents box which had stuff like her birth certificate, passport, diplomas, etc.

Soon everything was in the car.

"Are you sure you don't want any of the books?" Spencer asked. He was getting ready to slide down the door.

"No i already memorized them." Winnie said.

"Okay, are you sure you don't want anything else?" Spencer asked again.

"No, i'm-" Winnie stopped and saw the little polka dot pot of what used to be a cactus. She quickly went in and grabbed it. "Okay now i'm good."

The drive back to the hotel was quiet. Winnie was staring somberly at the small pot of dirt in her lap. She wasn't sad per-say, just empty. Her life before this whole thing was okay, not bad or good, but okay. She felt her life before was like the cactus. As dumb as that sounds. Boring, doesn't need much, doesn't do much; a cactus. And now she felt like a pot of dirt; nothing, just dirt. She didn't much like the idea of that.

But then a thought struck her, being a pot of dirt isn't the ending. Yes, the cactus died but the pot is still in tact. And you can always plant a new cactus, or maybe this time a flower. No, this is not the end, but rather the beginning of a beautiful new plant.

Yeah, that does sound pretty dumb, but the thought, as dumb and cheesy as it sounded, made her smile.